A Constant Companion
by JointheMadness
Summary: The story of Merlin told by an unusual narrator: Death himself.
1. Chapter 1

Hello. I would introduce myself, but everyone knows who I am. Or they will soon enough. It's only a matter of time. In the end, I come for everyone. But sometimes there are a handful of you that manage to elude me for a time. Whether you are just lucky, stubborn, or the Boss is pulling strings, I'll never know. But I catch up to you eventually.

*****A Statement of Fact*****

**My job is not an easy one, which is to be expected. In order to cope with the dim grayness of my reality, I take time to notice the colors. They are everywhere. Every life is full of them. Any and every color you can think of. I see them over and over and over. You humans are kaleidoscopic.**

But once upon a time there was one of you who refused to come with me. In all the stories I have collected (and I have collected many, many stories) his is the most unique. Never before him and never after him had I been so acquainted with one of you. Never before had someone been so blessed (or cursed, take your pick) to never take that final journey with me. His name has survived the grinding millstone of time. He is almost as famous as me. Almost.

Allow me now to tell you the story of this legendary man. The story of Merlin. I will always remember the colors of his life: red, blue, shining gold, and many, many more.

*****A Common Misconception*****

**Camelot was a fictional kingdom. I assure you that this is not the case. I was there, as I have been everywhere.**

I had been extremely busy in Camelot for twenty years before Merlin entered the picture. I try not to interfere with magic. Not my division, as they say. But I do know that out of all those souls I carried those twenty years of the Great Purge of sorcerers (from the pyres, the chopping blocks, the dungeons, etc.) there was much magical power lost. And as we all know, power can neither be created nor destroyed, only transmitted. It just so happens that all that power decided to transmit into one young boy: Merlin. He was born the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth.

The day he entered Camelot, the colors were already there. On a swatch of blue sky a golden sun shined warm and bright, causing our young warlock to squint against the brightness. As he crested the hill, he laid eyes on the gleaming white citadel. He did not know that he would soon be meeting another golden son, the man who would change Merlin's life forever.

More colors: a red neckerchief on a blue tunic, the chosen apparel of our lanky hero. I never understood why that boy insisted on wearing the same outfit for ten years. But who am I to talk? I haven't changed one bit in all of human history. The rest of the colors followed soon after he entered the city itself. He saw a golden dragon on a crimson banner, the crest of the Pendragons. He cringed at the red blood stained on a glinting axe blade after the execution of a sorcerer. Later, he watched a shining silver dagger intended for the prince imbed itself in a dark oak chair as he pulled the prince to safety. After that first day in Camelot, the day he saved the prince's life, Merlin's destiny was braided tightly with three things: magic, Arthur Pendragon, and me.

On the day of our first meeting, Merlin had done something incredibly brave (or foolish, depending on your perspective) to save the "prat" of a prince. His word, not mine. Merlin had fallen for the pretty face of the sorceress Nimueh. With her wily feminine charm she tricked Merlin into believing her lies that King Bayard had poisoned the Prince's goblet in order to kill him and start a war between Bayard's kingdom and Camelot. She was right about the poison (for it was she herself who had laced the cup) but poor Bayard had nothing to do with it. He was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. The poison was intended for Merlin. I know these things because I am able to be in a great number of places at once. Don't ask me how, because I don't know myself. But it does help get the job done, and allows me to gather such interesting tidbits of information.

Anyway, Merlin was convinced that the Prince was in mortal danger, and he would do anything to save him. The looks on the courts' faces when the gangly manservant burst into the dining room were priceless. I wish you could've seen them. I watched from the back of the room as the boy grabbed the goblet away from Arthur, and after a bit of squabbling between the manservant, prince, and king, raised it to his lips. The whole room watched with bated breath as he downed the poisoned wine. Except me, of course, as I do not have breath to bate, but I do love to use your human expressions.

After a tense moment, Merlin grabbed his throat, choking, and fell to the floor. I prepared myself to take his soul, but found that he was not yet ready. I could wait. To amuse myself, I began to take note of the colors again. First there was the piercing blue gaze and smiling red lips of Nimueh, satisfied with her revenge. Next was the golden chalice, rolling about on the gray stone floor, the crimson dregs of the wine spilled like blood.

Guinevere, Gaius, and Arthur, carrying an unconscious Merlin, brushed past me on their way out of the room, dashing towards the physician's chambers as fast as they could.

*****A Note on Gaius*****

**Gaius had seen me come for others many, many times in his long career as Court Physician. He had watched me as I scooped up souls in my long arms and carried them away. He had seen men fall to me in battle, from disease, starvation, any number of ways. I am sure he sensed me in that moment as his shoulder touched mine; he knew what my presence felt like. He also knew that I would come for him in time, as I come for all men. He only hoped that this time I would not take his beloved ward, Merlin.**

I fully expected to carry off Merlin's soul that night. The poison used was a potent one, and strengthened with magic at that. I could feel him slowly weakening as I made my way to Gaius's chambers at my own leisurely pace. Merlin had some time left, but not much. I entered the room silently, as I tend to do. No one noticed, as Gaius was busy explaining Merlin's condition to Arthur and Guinevere while they tended to Merlin.

I walked over to the bed where the unnaturally pale boy lay gasping for air. Merlin's soul clung to his body with an iron grip. Some of you are like that. You hold on to your tether to life like hands scrabbling on a cliff edge. I have to pry off each finger one by one. As I stood close to him, I sensed that Merlin was not ready to accompany me that night. He was a stubborn one. But I took my leave, knowing that I would return soon enough.

For the next few days I meandered about Albion performing my duties as always. I never get a break. Busy, busy, busy. A plague here, a famine there. A war in a neighboring kingdom kept my attention for a time. But just I had predicted, three days after the poison-drinking incident, I felt Merlin's soul call out to me. He was ready. I made my way back to those dark physician's chambers.

*****Another Fact About Me*****

**I have impeccable timing. Whether or not you think so is an entirely different matter.**

When I entered Gaius's chambers for the second time since this whole rigmarole began, Guinevere had just left. She stepped on my toes as she ran out. I do not think she noticed me in her panicked state; she was so desperate to fulfill Gaius's orders to draw more water. Perhaps she thought her efforts could waylay me. She was mistaken.

Meanwhile, Gaius was attempting to heat an acid-green potion with a flash of golden eyes. I was surprised he had resorted to magic in his attempt to save Merlin, for he had not used it for twenty years. But people will do anything to avoid me. Sometimes it saddens me to watch you humans try to prevent me from doing my job. You will never succeed. But, oh, do you try. Guinevere returned with a vial of water, which Gaius mixed with his potion. I knew their antidote would be of no use, but I let them go ahead anyway. Perhaps it would make them feel better.

By this point, Merlin's soul had only a tenuous hold left on his body. They fed the poor boy the potion and sat back. They waited in tense silence, their eyes fixed on Merlin. I felt his heartbeat falter and stop. As his thin chest stilled, I walked over and picked up his soul in my arms. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Merlin's soul weighed me down like an anvil.

***** A Note About Souls*****

**They are light, like feathers. I can carry hundreds, if not thousands at a time. **

Guinevere began to question Gaius frantically, for she had finally noticed my presence and Merlin's lack of movement. The old man placed his head on Merlin's chest, over his heart, but was greeted with silence. He had been too late to stop me. As the two of them embraced and began to weep, I attempted to struggle towards the door, Merlin's soul draped over my shoulders like a cloak. I found I could not move. This was new. Occasionally I run into a soul that resists me, but never before had a soul managed to stop me in my tracks.

I looked back at Merlin's soul. It was glowing gold, white, and electric blue, and was growing heavier still. It felt as if a magnetic force was pulling me back towards the thin, pale body of the warlock. The weight had grown so great I could hardly stand, so I had no choice but to carefully lower Merlin's soul back into his body.

It took hold immediately, its relief palpable, as if it had just taken a great gulp of air after being underwater. Merlin's heart began to beat again, and his eyes snapped open. He sat up and admonished the two weeping figures with a witty quip. Something along the lines of Gaius being old enough to be Guinevere's grandfather. I couldn't help but chuckle. That's another thing I love about you humans. You have a sense of humor, even when face to face with me.

That was the first time I met Merlin, but it certainly would not be the last. Being the secret magical protector of the most powerful (and therefore most targeted) man in Albion did not come without its dangers. I would visit Merlin many more times, but would never be able to take his soul with me. The same strange weight would come over me, and I would be forced to leave him once more. It was not until later that I realized why. His magic would not let me take him. Why? Because Merlin is known by another name among the Druid people. That name is Emrys. And Emrys means immortal.

As the years passed, I began to take the souls of those beloved by Merlin. His best friend, Will. His first and only love, Freya. His own father, Balinor. But the hardest one for me to take was that of King Arthur Pendragon, the man for which Merlin had sacrificed everything. Arthur had been destined to die at the hands of his trusted knight Mordred, who also fell to me not long after he took the King's life. Merlin was forced to say goodbye to Arthur, thinking that he himself must stay behind in this world alone, forever.

But I know something that Merlin does not know. I know many things that are unknown to others. I know that Arthur is the Once and Future King, and he will rise again. (Now I have a bone to pick about that one, for no one makes the journey with me twice. But who am I to argue with the Boss?) But I will watch over Merlin throughout the ages, for while everyone around him must go with me at one time or another, he alone must live on. We are the only two constants in a world of ever changing souls.

Merlin will wait for his King. He will wait for the Golden Age of Albion. He will wait for the return of his friends and family. He will wait for magic to be free. He will wait. And I will be his constant companion.


	2. Chapter 2

**I had someone ask for a continuation of this story, so here you go! I already had this one partially written, so I decided to put it up. Sorry that I haven't updated **_**Coming Home**_** yet. It's my winter break after this week, so I'll have much more time to update then. Please review!**

Now that we've established Merlin's current situation, I thought I'd take the time to regale you with another story from my vast collection. This is another installment in the tale of Merlin's and my acquaintance. As I have explained before, each time I met him, he would die, I would try to do my job, only to be thwarted and forced to return the boy back to life. But this instance stands out in my mind as a pivotal moment in the fates of the boy and his King.

This meeting occurred a handful of years after the incident with the poison. Merlin had spent those years attempting (not very successfully) to avoid me while keeping the young Pendragon out of my clutches as well. The chain of events that once more led me to Merlin were set in motion by a meddling sorceress by the name of Morgana Pendragon and her equally meddlesome sister, Morgause. They had interfered in my affairs before, and would continue to do so until I finally came for them, but their greatest offense was the tearing of the Veil between the Worlds.

Briefly, let me explain to you about the Veil. I have my realm, the living have theirs. It is my job to transport souls from one to the other. This should be a permanent, one-way journey. But sometimes souls do not come quietly, or have unfinished business in the living world, so a barrier was set in place to keep the worlds apart. This barrier is known as the Veil between the Worlds. It is guarded by the one known as the Cailleach.

There comes a time every year when the Veil is at its thinnest and the souls become restless. This is the day of Samhain.

*****About Samhain*****

**Samhain is the day the mortals of Camelot chose to honor both me and those whom I have taken. I do love it when you humans take the time to remember me. Too often I am ignored.**

On this particular Samhain, however, Morgana and Morgause had committed a most unspeakable act. Using the life of Morgause as a sacrifice, they tore the Veil asunder. (I do not approve of sacrifices. I choose when you come with me, not you.)

As the Veil split, all of Magic cried out in pain as the world was wrenched out of balance. I knew that somewhere my young warlock was collapsing from the total wrongness of it all. (What a burden it must be to be born from the very fabric that makes up the world, susceptible to its every change and movement.) But Merlin did not need me just yet. I had other matters to attend to.

Hundreds of tortured souls, the Dorocha, poured from the Veil like blood from a wound. I could not bring them back. Like the mythical Charon (based off me, of course, though a very poor representation), my ferryboat only goes one way. I sighed. Now free, the Dorocha would wreak havoc throughout the land. Not mortal can survive their touch; a living soul cannot bear the kiss of death. I was about to become very busy.

For the next few days, I swept up and down the countryside, gathering up the souls that had been frozen by their literal brush with death. There were hundreds: entire villages wiped out. The air was soon filled with the unearthly screams of the Dorocha.

As I continued my rounds, I learned that Merlin, Arthur, and a company of knights had set out from Camelot with the intent to close the Veil. The Cailleach required a life to be sacrificed to close the Veil, just as a life had been sacrificed to open it. Arthur intended to give up his life to save those of his people

*****On Schedules*****

**I have a very specific schedule and I do not take kindly to people attempting to alter it. It was not Arthur's time to die. He had much left to do before I came for him. Merlin's time, on the other hand, I could never quite pin down. He was a gray smudge on my carefully printed list.**

I decided to tag along with their little party, as I was most interested in watching this all unfold. Of course, I still continued my regular duties. I never take a day off. Ever.

When I arrived at their small camp, our young friends had found themselves in a bit of a fix. The knights had been separated from their prince and his manservant, and now Arthur and Merlin were trapped among the ruins of an abandoned fortress, surrounded by Dorocha. The two men were caught up in what sounded to me like the kind of conversation one would have when face to face with certain death, which they were. (Pun intended. I do have a sense of humor too, you know.)

As I listened closer to the words, I heard Merlin attempt to tell Arthur how many times he had saved his life while Arthur tried to convey how much he actually cared for his servant. Their true meaning was shrouded in banter and jests, but each knew what the other was really trying to say.

*****A Reminder to You****

**Do not wait until you are on my doorstep to say such things to one another. Do not keep secrets until it is too late. You never know when I might be coming.**

A shriek pierced the air. To use another human phrase, I felt a chill run down my spine. The Dorocha were coming. Merlin and Arthur had only seconds. This was about to get interesting.

As the Dorocha appeared around the corner, I began to wonder how Destiny planned to get itself out of this mess. Merlin and Arthur were trapped with their backs against the wall, facing the wrath of the undead. But, as I have said, it was not Arthur's time to die. The Dorocha streaked down the hall, heading straight for the pair. Without warning, Merlin shoved the prince aside and flung himself into the path of the monster. Merlin flew backwards, his face frozen in shock, and slammed against the wall. He did not move again.

I have always wondered about that moment. Why did Merlin jump into the Dorocha's way? Did he think that the monster's lust for vengeance would be sated once Merlin was dead? Did he expect to vanquish it? Or was he so desperate to save his friend's life that all thought or reason fled him? I suspect it was a bit of all three.

I approached Merlin's still form slowly. This was not at all how I expected things to go. Then again, you all find ways to surprise me. The knights burst in, armed with torches, and began to fight off the Dorocha. It would only be a matter of seconds before they reached Merlin. But I am not bound by time or space. I can do a great deal in seconds.

The Dorocha had nearly turned Merlin to ice. The touch of the dead is unbearably cold. His blood had frozen in his veins, his heart stopped mid-beat. His eyes stared blankly ahead and frost covered his face. I reached down to take his soul, but found it just a frozen as the rest of him. It would not budge. The mystifying gold-and-blue light sprang forth once again, engulfing my hands where they gripped Merlin's soul. The light was warm and pure, filled with love and loyalty. It was then that I realized what it must be: Merlin's magic. The light entered his chest and began to thaw the ice. Slowly, like an icicle in the sun, the ice melted, his heart began to beat weakly, and his breath returned, though it was almost imperceptible. His skin remained deathly pale and his face frozen. Merlin's magic had kept me at bay, but it could do no more. The Dorocha's touch was too powerful.

Once the Dorocha had vanished, the knights and Arthur rushed to Merlin's side. Arthur dropped to his knees and gingerly turned over Merlin's limp body. One look at Merlin's unseeing eyes, and Arthur began to plead, hoping against hope that Merlin was not dead. (I hate it when you plead. Your cries fall on deaf ears, for I do not change my mind. Merlin, however, was different. He made up my mind for me.)

Arthur felt for a pulse in the cold neck of his manservant, but found none. Tears sprang to his eyes but he refused to let them fall. In desperation Arthur placed his head on Merlin's chest. The knights waited in tense silence. Suddenly, Arthur's head sprang up, on his face a look of sorrow with a touch of hopeful fear. He placed his head back down, holding his breath this time, listening. There. He had heard it: a faint, slow heartbeat, but a heartbeat nonetheless. Merlin still lived. With a sigh of relief, Arthur stood up, hastily wiped his eyes, and ordered his men to return to the campsite, Merlin in the arms of Sir Percival.

So Merlin had evaded me once more. I would not see him again for three years. Of course, I ended up taking the soul of brave Sir Lancelot as the sacrifice to heal the veil, but, true to form, Merlin and Arthur had escaped unscathed.

It was this meeting with Merlin that I learned the most about him. I was witness to his undying loyalty to Arthur. Merlin was willing to sacrifice anything, including his own life, to save the prince. I had seen that during the poison incident, but there was no doubt in my mind after the Dorocha attack. Merlin and Arthur were inseparable; two sides of the same coin, indeed.

But the greatest revelation of all was Arthur's obvious love for his manservant, a love which he had previously hidden behind an uncaring façade. (I tend to crumble the walls you humans build around your hearts. You do not have as much time as you think.) I could see now that Arthur and Merlin would fulfill their destiny, no matter what. They would need that unbreakable bond between them to face the endless trials that the future would bring.

Merlin and Arthur will face new danger in the same way they faced the Dorocha: together. They will overcome their darkest hour and the new day of Albion will dawn, and their coin will shine brighter than ever.


End file.
